


Visions of Chaos

by ahlewis32



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-08
Updated: 2012-03-08
Packaged: 2017-11-01 15:55:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahlewis32/pseuds/ahlewis32
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aeron is a young mage in the Kirkwall Gallows who possesses the gift of Sight. When she begins to see visions of violence and terror, she finds herself caught up in the chaos that is the beginnings of the mage-templar war. My entry in Bioware's Dragon Age: Asunder short story contest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visions of Chaos

It’s always the ones you never expect.  
Aeron thought she could ever live any other way than how she always had. She was a mage; cursed and damned from the beginning of her life. She’d been brought to the Circle by her parents when she was five because they could no longer control her. For fifteen years she had done what she was told; learned what she was told. “Obedient and well behaved” was the description used by her mentors and the Templars that watched her. “Devout and penitent” said the sisters at the Circle Chantry.  
Yet despite all the glowing praise in her favor, Aeron had a secret: the gift of sight; a very rare and dangerous ability that could make her an invaluable asset or doom her to a life of tranquility; a gift that was about to reveal itself.  
Working in the kitchen garden with Hilda that morning, Aeron felt a charge in the air; almost a hum that seemed to be slowly building as the minutes ticked by.  
“Do you feel anything…unusual today?” she asked her friend, a heavy-set, dark-skinned girl with piercing blue eyes.  
“No. Why? Do you?” replied Hilda distractedly as she yanked another weed out of the patch of elfroot growing by the kitchen door.  
“It’s just…something seems different. One of those days where you feel as if something big is about to happen but you can’t seem to put your finger on what it is. Do you know what I mean?”  
Hilda glanced toward the kitchen door where the Templar stood, watching them intently as they worked. Even while doing the most mundane tasks they were watched here in Kirkwall. Rumor had it that the Templars watched when they bathed, as if a bathtub could hide magical secrets. It wasn’t like that in Rivain, nothing was here.  
“I suppose,” Hilda replied impatiently, then looked at Aeron and said: “You’re not seeing things again, are you? Remember the last time? You saw Madoc falling down the stairs and you raced all over the keep trying to find him and stop it.”  
“He really did fall down the stairs and hurt himself, you know.”  
“He was drunk on honey mead and fell off the bottom step on the common room stairs. He had a bruise on his elbow and had to be carried to the infirmary because he was too drunk to walk. He threw up all over the Templars who carried him. The look on their faces was priceless! Everyone is still talking about it.”  
“Don’t remind me,” Aeron countered angrily.  
She looked up into the sky and a transformation came over her face. Hilda stopped dead as she looked at her friend, aware that something had changed in her countenance, a fearful, ominous change that frightened her in a way she couldn’t describe.  
“Aeron?”  
“Aeron?” she repeated.  
“AERON! Snap out of it!” she yelled.  
Aeron’s eyes had glazed over and gone dark, her body shaking as if chilled by a great cold. When Hilda touched her, Aeron’s skin felt icy as death and the air of fright that permeated from her body terrified Hilda to her very soul; something was very wrong with her friend.  
As quickly as it started, it was gone and Aeron collapsed at Hilda’s feet. The Templar at the door ran to assist and between the two of them they managed to get her to a bench on the far wall of the garden. They chaffed her hands and fanned her, trying to bring her around; then, she finally stirred, gave a soft moan, opened her eyes, and spoke:  
"The people fear what we can do, but to use that fear to bludgeon us into submission is wrong!  
With that, her face returned to normal and Aeron looked at Hilda then the Templar then back to Hilda with alarm spreading over her face, “What’s wrong?” she asked.  
“You collapsed. Oh Aeron you scared me so! Do you remember anything? What’s all this about bludgeoning us into submission?”¬  
“Bludgeoning us into submission? What are you talking about? I was pulling weeds and then you were yelling at me.”  
“You were in some sort of trance. I’ve never seen anything like it. I thought you were dying! You must go to the infirmary.”  
The Templar looked at both girls. He was a middle aged man with graying hair and eyes that betrayed the kindness under his look of superiority. He turned to Aeron, “You will do as she says,” he said flatly and firmly. “Now.”  
Aeron and Hilda rose instantly at the Templar’s command and walked to the kitchen door, through the kitchen and into the main hall of the ground floor of the tower. They took the stairs to the third floor, and walked straight into the infirmary proper. The mage on duty was a kindly old woman who looked pointedly at both girls, sizing them up.  
“What seems to be the problem?” she asked.  
The Templar spoke up and pointed to Aeron, “This one fainted in the garden and began speaking strangely. She awoke and has no memory of what happened.”  
“Really? Hmmmm,” said the older mage, fully expecting a punch line as if she had been told a joke. “What did she say?”  
“It appeared to be some sort of trance-like episode.”  
The older mage became pale and worried. “Sit here,” she ordered Aeron. “You, out,” she ordered Hilda. To the Templar she only said, “I have this under control. You may leave.”  
“I understand,” was all he said, then turned on his heel and left.  
“Come with me,” ordered the mage.  
They walked into a small room located right off the main infirmary. In it was a small cot, a table and a large cabinet. Aeron suddenly became aware that she was far out of her comfort zone and she was afraid.  
“What is wrong with me?” she asked tentatively.  
“Wait here. I will return shortly. There is nothing to fear.” With that she turned and walked out, leaving Aeron alone. The next sound shot terror into Aeron’s heart as she heard the unmistakable sound of a bolt being shot, locking her in.  
An hour went by, or was it only minutes? Anxiety was beginning to overwhelm Aeron as she stood in the center of the small room and the images she saw in the garden came rushing back to her. She saw fire, lightning, chaos, a feathered coat and a staff with cats on it. What did it all mean?  
The door opened suddenly and two people walked in. The first she did not recognize, obviously not a mage and no one she’d ever seen before. He was dark-haired, tall and thin, walking with an air of self-importance that is earned, not presumed. He was followed by someone she did know…First Enchanter Orsino.  
Orsino looked at Aeron kindly, “Do not be afraid, Aeron. We are only here to ask you some questions. Be at ease.”  
The tall man considered her as if she were a work of art that should be savored and admired, then spoke, “My name is Greeley. Tell me what you saw.”  
“I don’t remember,” Aeron lied, suddenly feeling she must not tell him anything.  
“You were working in the garden?”  
“Yes,” she replied.  
“Have you had this type of thing happen to you before?”  
“About a week ago I had a vision of a friend falling down some stairs. When I went to look for him I found he had just fallen down some stairs as I had seen.”  
“Did you tell anyone of this occurrence?” Greeley asked pointedly.  
“My friend Hilda knew as do most of the mages in the west hall,” was Aeron’s reply.  
The questioning continued in this manner for some time with Greeley asking the same questions over and over and Aeron giving the same answers over and over. Finally, Greeley seemed to lose interest in the whole incident and, turning to the First Enchanter, said, “I have found out all I can here.” Turning, he left the room, his scarlet robes swishing on the floor around him.  
Orsino, who had been silent and meditative for the entire ordeal, stood up from his stool in the corner and walked toward Aeron. “Are you all right?” he asked cautiously.  
“I think so First Enchanter. What is this all about and who was that man?”  
“Greeley works with the Templars in Val Royeaux. He is an Examiner,” was the answer.  
“An Examiner?”  
“They are an arm of the Templars that investigate unexplained magical events. He is visiting at the request of Knight Commander Meredith. She believes there are dark forces at work here in our circle. He is here to confirm or disprove that assumption and will investigate anything unusual that happens while he is here,”  
“He thinks I am subversive or dangerous?” Unease was in every word of the question and was rapidly turning to terror.  
“He has not found anything of use here. You are free to go for now. I will say that you were ill and fainted. That is the ‘official’ explanation,” he explained.  
“And the unofficial explanation?”  
“I have much to consider but I believe you have manifested a rare and unusual talent. Do not speak of this to anyone. You and I will discuss this when I return. Go to your room and rest child.” And, as did his predecessor, he left the room, leaving the door open, his robes swishing as he walked. Aeron followed.  
After lunch, a great commotion was heard in the main hall downstairs. The First Enchanter and Knight Commander Meredith were at it again, the same argument they always had. Yet instead of stomping back to their offices, they stomped out of the keep together, yelling the whole way. As they left, Orsino gave a note to a young elven servant, whispered some instructions, and followed his quarry out the door.  
The mezzanine was crowded with mages and Templars alike, witnessing the unusual spectacle. “What was that all about? Did you hear what they said? Maker, I thought I’d heard it all!” were the comments from both sides.  
Relieved of her duties for the day by the First Enchanter, Aeron found she could not rest. She had witnessed the commotion in the main hall with everyone else and it unsettled her though she could not understand why. The feeling she felt in the garden earlier had returned and was stronger, the humming growing exponentially with each minute that passed. As it grew, so did Aeron’s anxiety. What if she was called before the Examiner again? What if he found something to use against her? What unusual talent? These thoughts left her so restless she needed some fresh air, so she left the keep to walk in the courtyard.  
The mages were allowed to walk in the courtyard for an hour or two every day for exercise. Each session was supervised by a squad of Templars stationed at strategic points throughout the area to readily stop any trouble that might occur. Today they were under direct command of Knight Captain Cullen, a handsome knight who turned more than one girl’s head when he passed.  
Suddenly, the feeling she had had all day began to overwhelm her, powerful and menacing, blurring her vision and sending her to her knees. As the feeling subsided, she began to realize she was being carried. Looking at her rescuer, she realized the Knight Captain himself was carrying her towards the doors of the keep. She began to struggle, yelling: “Put me down! Please!” Her efforts made it impossible for him to hold on to her, so, with a curse, he was forced to set her down. She ran back toward the center of the courtyard, drawn as a moth to a flame, the Knight Captain at her heels.  
When she reached her destination, something compelled her to look up towards the towering heights of the Chantry tower across the bay. What she saw then would define her life and the lives of all mages in Thedas from that day on. There was a deafening noise like none ever heard, followed by a flash of light, nearly blinding everyone in sight. Before her eyes the towering spire of the Chantry building exploded in a mass of fire that circled and cork screwed up into the sky then was forced outward in all directions.  
Knight Captain Cullen stopped dead, standing next to her, staring at the carnage. “Maker, have mercy!” he exclaimed, not able to take his eyes off the sight. Recalling his duty, he yelled, “All mages to the keep! Templars! To me!”  
Aeron soon found herself shoved with a group of mages and tranquils through the doors of the keep and into the main hall, the news of the Chantry explosion spreading like wildfire throughout the group. Without warning, a group of Templars entered the room and began to herd all the panic stricken mages into a tight group at the back of the room. When one mage protested, he was struck down by the quick and efficient blow of a sword, his head rolling away. A cacophony of screaming began from those who witnessed the act, throwing the group into greater disarray, leading the Templars to press forward even harder to restore order and subdue them.  
Whether it was an act of desperation or defiance, Aeron never decided; all she knew was the obedient and well-behaved, penitent and devout girl they all admired decided she had had enough. Tendrils of blue flame and ice shot from her fingers as she struck down the Templars, one by one. Fire, ice, lightning…every spell she had learned in her fifteen years in the Circle danced from her hands and struck her targets, silencing each one they touched.  
When the smoke lifted, everyone looked at her as if they were next and Aeron spoke the words she had heard in her vision that morning but had kept to herself. Words spoken by the unknown blond mage with the amber eyes, the feathered coat, and the cats on his staff:  
“I removed the chance of compromise because there can be no compromise….There can be no peace.”  
Silence fell upon the group as they contemplated what had happened. Then, one by one, hands went up all over the hall and one young mage spoke the thoughts they all had: “Yes. We must fight. It is the only way.”  
“Follow me,” she commanded.  
Hours later, nearly collapsing with exhaustion from a battle that still raged, Aeron knew what that feeling she had felt building in the garden that morning and in the courtyard that afternoon had been. It was the sound of destiny; hers and that of all the mages at the Kirkwall Gallows and in all of Thedas.  
She shouldered her staff and led the others out of the city, a new life beckoning, with freedom as the prize.


End file.
